infinitum
by QuitetheSardonic
Summary: He thought himself above the gods, for even the gods were bound to love, and he was not. He was bound to his ambition for power. One day, a rude witch steals his favorite nook in the library. He thinks he's found his equal, but he thinks he wants to kill her, too. He also thinks he begins to understand why the gods waged wars in the name love. Drabble-like in nature. Slowburn.
1. Chapter 1

On the first day of the sixth years' Potions class, Professor Horace Slughorn had all of the students line up in the front of the classroom to smell the love potion, _amortentia_. Each student was asked to describe what different scents wafted up to their nose, a bright blush staining their cheeks as they giggled and pondered on what the scents meant.

When it came to be Tom Marvolo Riddle's turn, all of the students within the classroom peered at the handsome wizard excitedly, wondering what their mysterious peer would smell.

To Tom Marvolo Riddle's pleasant surprise, he did not smell a single thing.

When he proclaimed so, Professor Slughorn looked at him with confusion painted across his features before prompting the young wizard to try once more.

"Another try, then, m'boy!"

And so, Tom Marvolo Riddle leaned in again and inhaled deeply, a lovely smirk stretching his full lips. He smelled absolutely nothing.

Professor Slughorn chose not to comment, offering the young prodigy an uneasy smile instead before beginning the day's lesson.

Despite the professor's unease, Tom found the discovery monumental. This discovery, that he was not attracted to anything, that he _didn't have a weakness_ , was an indication of how powerful Tom was as a wizard. If anything, Tom speculated that it was because he only loved power and ambition, and those did not have a scent to them which was why he didn't smell a thing.

This was a confirmation that he was meant for unprecedented greatness in the world.

Even the gods were not immune to the frivolities of love, and Tom was - Tom was greater than the gods themselves.

His smirk turned into a rare, self-satisfied smile as Tom decided that the Fates were on his side, and the name Lord Voldemort would one day be known everywhere.

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	2. Chapter 2

The first time he met her, she was taking his space.

She was sitting in his hidden nook in the library with her textbooks strewn all over his preferred table. His grey eyes cut across her petite form, and he took in her wild hair as she bent over her work. Tom cleared his throat politely and watched curiously as she glanced at him briefly before returning to her studies.

Tom's teeth grounded together in annoyance.

Tom breathed in deeply and allowed it to slowly deflate from him, cooling the flare of temper.

"Miss," he began courteously. "I apologize for interrupting your studies, however, I am afraid that this is _my_ study table."

Tom gave her his perfected, boyish grin, expecting her to react in the same manner as most of the female population in the school, but alas, she simply placed her quill down to look at him. Her head turned slowly as she scanned the wide berth of space in the area before she looked him up and down and rolled her amber eyes.

"My apologies, however, I don't see your name written anywhere, Mister . . ."

Tom swallowed.

"Riddle. Tom Riddle," he responded through clenched teeth.

"Right. Mister Riddle." She flashed him a brief smile. "Now, unless you personally bought this table and brought it here, and you have rented out this nook, I don't think you have any claims to this area. You are welcome, however, to join me if you would like. There is plenty of room for the two of us."

Her response was dripping with condescension as she waved her hand in an arc, indicating the rest of the empty space.

Before he could respond, she picked her quill back up and returned to her work.

Her rude behavior threw him off, and he clenched his jaw in frustration. Tom could not remember the last time someone had spoken to him in such a manner, and it was consternating to him, to say the least. People either feared him too much or respected him too much to treat him so callously.

His hand twitched as he toyed with the idea of making her feel the former since she seemed to lack the latter.

He decided against taking any action of the sort as he didn't want any unnecessary attention on him. He didn't need anyone tracking his movements as he searched for the Chamber of Secrets.

Tom smiled tightly as he joined the witch at _his_ table, unwilling to let her chase him away from _his_ space. He took out his schoolwork out and began to work diligently.

Hours seemed to pass as the pair studied their respective subjects, and Tom almost forgot about the entire ordeal until -

"You translated those runes incorrectly," came an amiable voice.

Tom glanced sharply at the witch, his temper flaring, once again, at her comment.

"Pardon?"

She leaned over before reaching her small hand across the table to point at a rune on his parchment.

"That one right there only has a slight curve to it, signifying the guardian of the mother, not the protector. The protector of the mother has a more pronounced curve, almost looking like the letter U. It's quite easy to confuse the two, really."

He stared at the rune that she was pointing at and found that, irritatingly, she was correct. His jaw tightened at his mistake and at being caught making one by _her_. He looked up and was sure that the glare he gave her could burn holes into her skull. She was oblivious as she gathered her items to pack up. Still placing her books in her bag, the witch continued.

"These runes are tricky. You'll need to take your time translating them to avoid making any mistakes. I find that reading them aloud helps me. I also make flashcards and quiz myself on the runes periodically to memorize them better. You know, I could help you with your Ancient Runes homework in the future if you'd like. I've had nothing less than Outstanding marks for all of my assignments, and it's my favorite course."

As she finished putting her last textbook in her bag and began donning her school robes, Tom schooled his features to something more pleasant than the death glare he had been giving her. She faced him when she finished and gave him a bright smile.

"My name's Hermione, by the way, Hermione Granger. I hope you don't mind too much as I do plan on continuing to use this nook. It's quiet here and no one can disturb me, unlike those Gryffindors that don't seem to be taking their studies seriously. All they do is gossip out there."

She gestured to the more populated areas with her chin.

Tom flicked his eyes at the Ravenclaw insignia on her robes as she hefted her bag onto her shoulder and walked around the table.

"We got off on the wrong foot earlier, but you seem to be okay. I've been watching you work and you take your studies seriously. I appreciate that in a person. I'm sorry about being rude to you earlier."

She flashed him another smile before her wand began vibrating obnoxiously. A quick _Tempus_ charm informed her of the time and her eyes widened in mild alarm before she bade him a quick farewell and rushed out of the private area.

Tom sat in his seat in slight confusion at the interaction, wracking his head in an attempt to figure out who the offending witch was. He came up short and realized that this was the first time he had ever seen the witch, which was odd as he was certain that he knew of all of the Ravenclaws from the fifth year and up.

Tom shook his head, deciding that he should not deign another second to the witch, and returned his studies, but not without making a faint note to himself that perhaps he should determine just who this witch was.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Welcome to my alternate universe. This entire piece is from Tom's POV so there will be holes as he is re-telling it based off of what he knows.

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	3. Chapter 3

The second time Tom met her, she was stealing his spotlight.

It was odd, really, that after that initial and haphazard meeting in his hidden nook, Tom had not seen her again. That was, until the Masquerade Ball that Professor Slughorn hosted for All Hallow's Eve for the Slug Club, except for momentary glimpses during mealtimes and class changes.

Perhaps, he did not worry as much as he should have because he was far too focused on finding out where the Chamber was located. He was _so_ close, and he could not afford any distractions at that time.

Tom was fitted in the finest, sleek robes that the Malfoy money could afford him and wore an elegant mask of black and gold. He engaged in polite conversation with the witches and wizards that Professor Slughorn introduced him to and made an effort to be more charming than he knew he usually was. The people that mingled in the crowd this evening were the ones who operated the wizarding world and eventually, he would need them to establish himself.

"Ah yes, Mister Rowle! Have you met Tom, yet? The boy's top of his class and —"

Tom's distaste for his professor grew, and he briefly narrowed his eyes in displeasure at the patronizing manner in which he was referred to. He was not just a _mere boy_.

Professor Slughorn continued to babble about his academic record and when he finally finished, Tom shook Mister Rowle's hand firmly. The three of them were discussing the twelve uses of dragon's blood but were stopped short when the older wizard exclaimed excitedly.

"Oh, my!"

He clapped his hands cheerily and beckoned at the figure at the entrance. Tom turned his head to see who had excited his professor so and found that it was the same annoying witch that took his study nook.

All of the information that he had Abraxas pull about her came rushing forward as she walked confidently across the room to them. In truth, Tom had found absolutely nothing useful to him about the witch named Hermione Granger except that she was a seventh-year transfer and if she had attended Hogwarts for her entire school career, she would probably be the current Head Girl.

"Hermione, m'dear!" said Professor Slughorn. "You look positively lovely."

Hermione offered the older man a kind smile.

Tom observed how the white dress robe that she wore clung to her body like liquid silver before pooling gracefully at her feet, her toes peeking out from underneath the robe. It seemed to shimmer and twinkled under the blue hue provided by the faerie lights. Her lips were painted the color of blood, and her face was framed by a simple, white lace mask. Her wild hair had been tamed and tumbled down her back in soft waves.

 _Lovely, indeed_ , Tom silently agreed.

Turning to the Rowle patriarch, Professor Slughorn began introducing her.

"Hermione, here, is new to Hogwarts, despite it being her final year. Moved from the States, you see. Grindelwald returned to New York City again for some reason and made her parents nervous, so they sent her here. Miss Granger is one of the brightest witches I have ever met and could probably give Tom here a run for his money with how intelligent she is!"

Tom knew it was petulant but he silently fumed as his professor continued to shower the witch with compliments. She blushed prettily at the praises given to her, and Rowle was ignoring him in favor of staring at her as if he had never seen a witch before.

It was infuriating. _He_ was the prodigy. _He_ was the Heir of Slytherin! Albeit, no one knew the latter except for his Knights of Walpurgis, but Tom was still indignant about the attention she was receiving.

Tom's grey eyes were brewing a storm as he bore holes into the witch's head, and he hated her.

His attention drifted as he pacified himself with the myriad of ways that he could take out his violence and frustration. Before he understood what was happening, however, his professor had pushed the witch into his arms and motioned for them to prepare for a waltz.

His jaw ticked because of how tightly he was clenching it. He lightly gripped her waist with one hand and grasped her smaller hand with his other one. He felt her gently place her free hand on his shoulder.

He never realized how small the witch was until then. Despite her heels, she reached right under his chin. As the quartet began, Tom led her across the dance floor, refusing to look at her.

She spoke first.

"Professor Slughorn seems rather fond of you."

"Yes."

"It was a statement, not a question."

Tom scoffed. "And I was just stating my agreement."

Silence.

Hermione tried again.

"How are you doing in Ancient Runes? Have you made any more mistakes?"

Tom bristled at her question, peering down his nose to find her smiling mischievously at him.

"No. My translations are perfect, but thank you for your concern."

"I've taken to studying in the mornings if you've wondered where I disappeared off to. I like to rise early, and it seemed better to have the space to myself since you seemed so put out the last time we met in the library."

He glanced at her and said haughtily, "I didn't wonder at all. I was glad you were out of my way."

Hermione huffed in annoyance at his response.

"You know, for all that talk about you, you don't quite live up to your reputation."

Tom looked down at her and raised his eyebrows. Hermione continued.

"The way my Housemates and half the school talks about you, you're supposed to be this caricature of perfection, politeness, and mystery. Merlin knows that almost all of the witches in this school wouldn't mind becoming Mrs. Riddle. But I think you're aloof and arrogant." Her eyes flicked up and down his body before her hand briefly pressed against his masked face. He recoiled at the unexpected coolness and watched her smile at him.

"Handsome, yes, but there's no such thing as perfection, Mister Riddle, and I believe I see your flaws."

Tom wondered where this tiny witch got all of her audacity from, and he wanted desperately to rid her of this _idea_ that she could act how she pleased around him. People did not just simply speak to him like this or even _touch_ him. He was Lord Voldemort! As the music changed, however, Tom took in a deep breath, ignoring her and her observations in favor of smoothly transitioning them into a foxtrot.

He cleared his throat.

"You know, Miss Granger, you are a mystery as well."

She had been staring at something across the room, and at his statement, she snapped her head at him, her amber eyes guarded. The light scent of peonies invaded his senses, not quite unpleasant, as her gaze settled into his own. He wished he had perfected legilimency at that moment as they stared at each other.

Her dark eyes, he regarded, were speckled with flakes of gold as she appraised him with sharp intelligence. His own eyes flicked to her perfectly painted lips that had stretched uneasily before settling into a demure smile.

"Is that so, Mister Riddle?"

"Yes, I hope you don't mind, but I had some people look into you, and they found absolutely nothing at all. You seem to be a ghost. Not even my Muggle contacts could give me information."

He watched as she processed the words that left his mouth, noting that the room seemed to flare with an unfamiliar magical energy. It quickly encompassed the room before retreating, as if someone had snapped shut the lid to a box. Tom would have thought that he had imagined the feeling if it weren't for several other witches and wizards fluttering all at once, moving their heads as if searching for the source.

He couldn't help but notice as well that the energy felt just as strong as his, and his hand gripped her waist tighter than perhaps appropriate as he realized this.

"Who are you?" he asked, sharply. She briefly tensed beneath his hands before relaxing.

"I am Hermione Granger. Have you already forgotten? And I thought you didn't wonder about me at all. Looks like you're a liar, too, Mister Riddle if you're looking into me and my past."

She smiled prettily at him as she feigned ignorance. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the quartet finished their song, and she bade him farewell before turning and disappearing into the mass of people.

The faint scent of her perfume lingered around him and the parts of him that she touched was considerably cooler than the rest of him.

.

.

.

 **Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed this chapter and leave a review! Find me on Tumblr under the same penname.**

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	4. Chapter 4

The third time he met her was the night of his seventeenth birthday where she had, yet again, taken something from him.

This time it was one of his few sanctuaries from the rest of the student body.

He had headed to the Astronomy Tower, as he has always done on the night of his birthday every year since his first year, and found her lying underneath the open sky. Her honey locks were splayed around her like a chaotic halo. The full moon had bathed her in its white light and she seemed almost ethereal – a fallen star among the world of mere mortals.

If it weren't for the steady rise and fall of her chest, she could have passed for dead with how still she laid. As he watched her, he wondered how easy it would be to push her off the tower. It would be a simple shove, really, and she was so small that he was certain it would be like pushing open a heavy door. She could be his first Horcrux and with what Professor Slughorn had told him the other night, the first of many. She was a mysterious anomaly in his equation, and therefore, should be eliminated. After the Masquerade Ball, Tom came to the logical conclusion that she must have been the source of that powerful magical energy.

Before he could decide on whether or not he should push her, Hermione sat up and stretched, distracting him from his musings.

"Didn't your mother teach you to not stare at a lady? It's rude."

Without missing a beat, Tom responded, "she died before she could teach me anything. And I'm certain you're not a lady."

Hermione hummed, nonchalantly. She didn't offer her condolences but said instead, "I may not be a lady, but it's rude to stare, nonetheless, Mister Riddle."

She looked over her shoulder at him for the first time that night and gestured at the empty space beside her. Tom scowled at her for the action, as if he needed an invitation to sit somewhere that was already his.

He took a seat anyway.

A rather comfortable silence fell between the two of them as Hermione laid back down and stared at the night sky. Hours seemed to pass as the two of them stared into the universe.

Tom broke the silence first.

"You can call me Tom," he offered cordially.

She turned her head to look at him, and her gaze seemed to pierce through him before she responded.

"Hermione." A small smile flitted briefly across her face.

"Hermione." Tom tested the name on his tongue and marveled at how wonderful it felt. "As in Hermione, the daughter of Menelaus and Helen?"

" _Gods,_ no. That Hermione was something akin to a mess, don't you think? No, my mother was a Shakespeare fanatic and named me after the Queen of Sicily in _The Winter's Tale_."

"Doesn't the queen have a rather tragic story?" Tom asked curiously. "Her husband nearly destroys their family with his jealousy."

"You know Shakespeare? Most wizards know almost nothing about the population that shares this space with them," she commented in mild annoyance with a delicate sniff. "But yes, her story is tragic; however, she survives in the end, and that's what my mother wanted for me if nothing else, for me to survive a cruel world."

Silence befell them again as a more solemn mood followed her statement.

"What brings you here on this fine night?" She asked him after a while.

"Tradition."

"Really? In anticipation of the New Year?"

He decided to be poetic because it had been a good day for him, and seventeen years ago, the world was blessed with his presence.

"No, the universe shifted seventeen years ago to accommodate a strong and powerful presence."

Hermione looked at him oddly before she took on an incredulous expression. " _Merlin,_ Tom, are you talking about yourself? Wait," she paused briefly as she furrowed her brow in mild confusion. "You're only seventeen? You're practically a child!"

Her response wasn't quite what he wanted, and he glared at her as she laughed heartily, her frame shaking with mirth. It could have been endearing if she weren't laughing at him. As she began to calm down, she gave him a warm and kind smile that had him wondering what type of witch he was dealing with.

"I'm sorry about that, you just seem much older, and it took me by surprise that you are only seventeen. _Gods,_ you're young." Hermione quirked her lips at him. "The world shifted, indeed. Happiest of birthdays, Tom," she said before staring back at the skies.

His nose flared but he thanked her politely.

"How have you taken to Hogwarts?"

She sighed as she contemplated her answer.

"I can't complain about much. It's very beautiful, but it makes me nostalgic. It somehow reminds me of home. It does get rather lonely. I've only just arrived, but I'll be leaving soon, and everyone else already has their own friends. I miss mine."

"Where are yours?"

She glanced at him, and she seemed smaller than usual as she thought of how to answer him.

"They're someplace where they are resting easy and their lives are uncomplicated and happy. Or, I hope they are."

Somewhere, they heard fireworks go off with her statement, and he looked at her again. There was something radiant about her, and she was witty and intelligent and for a second, he wanted to chase away whatever sadness was dampening her shine and to know what it would be like to receive her affections before those thoughts disappeared.

"Hermione," Tom began. She hummed in response with her eyes closed. "It might be best if you no longer frequent the hallways alone at night."

"And why is that?"

"There may be creatures that you are unaware of roaming the school that could harm you."

"I can handle myself very well, Tom, but thank you for your concern," she retorted.

He warned her. If she wouldn't listen, then that would be her own fault.

They stared at the stars all night until the sun rose, and the brilliant orange of a new day engulfed her. She seemed to glow like a burning ember, and if he got too close, he'd burn. As she got up, she stretched as if she was a kitten. She smiled softly at him.

"Happy New Year, Tom."

"Happy New Year, Hermione."

And again he was struck with the pesky thought of what it would be like to have her affections as his, to make her happy. He crushed it vehemently before it could be anything more than a mere thought.

He attributed it to the fact that it was his birthday and he always felt dizzy, and therefore illogical, with power with each year he grew older.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : **Something that I wanted to point out about my characterization of Tom is that I try to still make him out to be a young, adolescent boy in some modem. It irks me when people write about 16/17-year-old who is so incredibly clever, suave, and evil. I completely understand where they're coming from because I was mature as 16/17-year-old and that characterization is accurate but I had my moments of just being an adolescent as well as my maturity, you know? Tom is clever and mature but he's still a** _ **boy**_ **. So Tom has his moments. He doesn't know the world as well as he thinks he does, yet, and he'll be awkward and just a kid.**

 **Much thanks to my beta devdevlin for catching my grammatical mistakes and pointing out holes in the chapter. Find her on Tumblr at devdevlin and on FanFiction at Devlin085!**

 **FUN FACT: title of this story is from the song auntie's lock/infinitum x flying lotus ft. laura darlington. The song makes no sense but it gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it in lecture?**

 **As always, thank you for reading and find me on Tumblr at quitethesardonic.**

 **Revised April 16, 2019.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

This is one of my four favorite chapters for this story. I really enjoy the dynamics between Hermione and Tom. I hope you all enjoy it, too.

Special shoutout to my beta, devdevlin, for catching grammatical mistakes and editing this. Find devdevlin on Tumblr and on FanFiction at Devlin085!

Find me on Tumblr, too, at quitethesardonic.

And finally, enjoy.

* * *

The fourth time he saw her, she had taken another one of his sanctuaries.

Like most things in the orphanage, food was scarce and good food was even scarcer. And so, upon returning to Hogwarts, Tom would often make the most of its luxuries. He frequented the kitchens on nights that he could not sleep and would have the house elves prepare him a small meal.

Discovering the Chamber of Secrets and learning how to control the basilisk inside of it made sleep much more difficult for him to get. The Spring term would begin in the morning, and Tom could finish what his ancestor started by ridding the school of the unworthy filth that attended the school.

Upon entering through the portrait hole that led to the kitchens, however, Tom found Hermione downing a shot of fire whiskey before chasing it with what looked like vanilla ice-cream.

In his fucking space. Again.

He was decidedly irritated with the witch.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glassy, and her cheeks flushed a rosy pink. The coloring suited her.

"Oops," she giggled before vanishing the alcohol. "What a pleasant surprise! I think."

A small house elf approached Tom, and he confirmed his usual order before walking up to the inebriated witch.

"What are you -"

"You know, Tom," she interrupted. "I'm starting to think that you're following me. First the library, then the Astronomy Tower, and now here. Is there something you'd like to say?"

"How much have you had to drink?" he questioned her. She giggled again and shrugged her shoulders.

"That wasn't quite the response I was looking for, but that's fine. I haven't had that much, Tom. How are you, my friend?"

"We're not friends, Hermione, merely acquaintances," he bit out haughtily and ignored her pout in favor of the roast beef and chips that a house elf placed in front of him.

"That hurts, Tom! After the _lovely_ night we shared weeks ago!" She exclaimed petulantly while reaching over to grab a chip. She hissed in pain as Tom shot a wandless Stinging Hex at her hand.

"I don't share."

"You're no fun at all," she sulked but returned to her ice-cream.

"Fine by me," he responded without looking at her and continued eating his meal, disregarding the incessant chattering of the tiny witch.

". . . and you know, I'm kind of inclined to agree that Persephone wasn't tricked to stay with Hades. In addition to being the Goddess of Spring, she became even _more_. The _Destroyer_ of Light! She wasn't all bad but she wasn't all good either, you know? A mixture of _everything_. I don't think she gave up who she was as a person - or is it as a goddess? - to be with Hades but she found something within herself, too. I think she's absolutely admirable . . ."

When she realized Tom wasn't listening to what she was saying, Hermione stopped talking and frowned. He silently watched as she opened another bottle of fire whiskey – where she got it was a mystery to him – and downed it straight from the jug. She smacked her lips a few times before wrinkling her nose. It was cute – mildly.

She started talking again.

"Sleepless night, Tom?"

He didn't respond.

"Are you excited for the new term? _Gods_ , I love learning. I've missed it. My brain has been itching, and I've been reading about three books a day during this break. I don't know what I'm going to do when I leave this place. Where will I get all the books?!" she wailed in despair.

He chewed his roast beef slowly but still wouldn't respond. Hermione huffed in annoyance at him and continued taking swigs from the bottle. She finally stopped talking and only drank her whiskey paired with her vanilla ice-cream, the smell of it wafting up to his nose.

Time passed as Tom had finished his meal and moved on to a light dessert. As the small witch became more intoxicated, he watched her eyes become haunted, and her expression became somber. She grew sad, a stark contrast to the bubbliness that she was exuding just moments prior. She stared aimlessly at nothing and seemed almost wistful as she took smaller sips from the bottle. Tom reached across the table and jerked the fire whiskey out of her hand.

She stared at him with indignation, but he interrupted her before she could protest.

"Is everything alright, Hermione?"

"I thought that we weren't friends, Tom. Give me back my fire whiskey."

"Am I not allowed to show concern?"

Hermione snorted. "But that's what _friends_ do, Tom, so I suppose that means you're my friend."

"If that's what you want to call it. I've only seen you a handful of times and it's just me being a good Samaritan. It'd be a shame if you were to ruin my night by blubbering those tears you witches seem to produce on a whim."

"What a Muggle term of you, Tom and what a remarkably sexist comment." She held out her hand for the bottle that he held securely between his thighs. He arched a brow at her, and she lowered her arm before taking another bite out of her ice-cream.

"We're not friends," he repeated.

"You've said so multiple times." Irritation laced her tone. "Now, if we're not friends, please do not concern yourself with my well-being, and _give me back my fucking bottle_."

"You're an alcoholic, _and_ you have a foul mouth," Tom stated with a wrinkle of his nose as he handed the bottle back to her.

"No. I'm trying to forget, and you're interrupting. And my mouth is perfectly fine. You just have a stick up your arse." She took a swig straight from the handle before spooning herself more ice-cream.

"What are you trying to forget?"

" _Again_ , Tom, we're not friends as you so kindly put it. Now, you're ruining my mood. Let me drink in peace. I was doing perfectly well until you walked in. I was happy!"

"What if I said that I'm your friend?"

"Then I'd say _bullshit_ because we just argued over what being a friend means, and you, mister, are no friend of mine."

"Hurtful."

"You're quite dramatic, have you noticed?" Hermione commented before rolling her eyes and drinking some more of the fire whiskey. Silence followed her statement, and Tom finished his dessert. Tom stood up and turned to leave.

Right as he was about to walk out, he heard her sigh softly before whispering, "I wouldn't mind being your friend, Tom. I could use some friends at this time."

Tom hesitated at the door, thinking of how to reply. It was nothing poetic, but simple and to the point. "I'll see you around, Hermione. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tom."

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	6. Chapter 6

The fifth time he saw her, he got more glimpses as to who she was and was decidedly interested then, to become her friend.

It was three weeks since he last saw her in the kitchens and classes had gone on normally. He'd spot her during mealtimes sitting at the Ravenclaw table alone, each time with a book in hand. It was a different one at each mealtime, and he wondered how she could consume books so quickly, if she was even reading them at all. She would occasionally meet his eyes with her own dark ones and offer him a small smile which he returned with a smirk.

This time, however, he had been heading to his study nook after he had finished his classes for the day and –

"So…this is where you study," a male voice intoned. An awkward silence filled the space as no one responded to the comment.

"Look, Hermione, -"

"I don't recall giving you permission to use my name," she interrupted loudly, but the wizard continued on. The visible irritation in the witch's voice piqued Tom's curiosity, causing him to cast a silencing spell in the area to ensure that no one would interrupt. What would this rude but brilliant witch do?

The wizard didn't apologize but finished his former sentence. "I think that you're absolutely gorgeous, and I'd like to take you to Hogsmeade this week as my date. Would you like to accompany me?"

"You have asked me since the beginning of the school year, and I have always said no. My answer will not change, Mister Abbott, no matter how persistent you are. Thank you for your invitation, but I'd rather study," she responded in a manner that was borderline rude.

"Hermione –"

"It is Miss Granger to you!" she said vehemently, frustration bleeding into the words that she spoke, and Tom felt that same magical energy that he did the night of All Hallows' Eve. It surged forward, and he heard the male swallow.

"I apologize, Miss Granger."

"Mister Abbott, I appreciate the sentiment, truly, but I have no interest in being courted by you, and I would like for you to leave me alone. I have told you on multiple occasions that I am not interested, and I no longer have the patience to be polite with you."

Abbot sputtered at the response she gave him but continued on. "Miss Granger, I know that you're new to the country –"

"I grew up in London and studied in the States. I am well acquainted with the country."

"- and I think that it may be beneficial for you to spend some time with people. If you'd rather not pursue romantic interests with me, I think that you'd find me an excellent friend! I watch you during mealtimes, and you never interact with anyone."

"I find that unnerving, Mister Abbott."

Tom held back a snort at her response as he heard the male scoff. Tom was tempted to intervene and help the witch out but he had a feeling that his presence in this mess would make things worse. He also wholeheartedly believed that Hermione was fully capable of handling the situation herself.

"Most witches would find it romantic, as opposed to creepy, Hermi - Miss Granger."

"And if you knew me well, you would find that I am unlike other witches and care more for my studies than for the attention of wizards. I also doubt that most witches would find anything about you remotely romantic."

There was shuffling, and Tom heard the scraping of a chair before he felt Hermione's magic flare wildly - no - angrily.

"I will only ask you this once, Mister Abbott; get away from me and out of my space."

"I think you'd change your mind once you realize –"

A loud crash reverberated in the small study space and Tom heard Abbott curse. Hermione's magical energy grew dark, violent, and _murderous_. Her magic was dark and heady with her anger.

"Get out!" Hermione snarled. "Get out before I do something I regret, Abbott. So, help me, _Morgana_ , I will make you regret the moment you ever met me if you do not leave immediately."

Tom felt goosebumps erupted over his skin as her intoxicating magic washed over his body. It was the most pleasurable feeling he had ever encountered as it surged and roiled with fury. The longer Abbott stayed, the more volatile it felt, and Tom thought that he never wanted to forget the taste of her magic licking at him. He closed his eyes and took in the feel of it.

It was positively _glorious_.

"Miss Granger, you're simply overreacting! I thought a kiss would -"

The sound of choking filled the air and her magic licked against Tom's skin in anger as Abbott refused to leave her be.

"GET OUT NOW!" Hermione thundered.

"Barmy witch!" He heard Abbott exclaim before stumbling out. Tom's eyes snapped open as he pressed himself against a bookshelf and cast a disillusionment charm on himself. As the other wizard disappeared from sight, Tom walked into the nook and stared at the small witch.

Despite her petite stature, Hermione was an imposing figure in her righteous fury. Her wild hair frizzed and framed her face like it was a lion's mane. Her powerful magic swirled and crackled in the air around hair, awaiting its mistress's commands. Her chest heaved as she took in air through flared nostrils, with the ink that was dripping down her hands reminding him of blood.

Tom reached out to her magic with his own and prodded it carefully. Hermione shivered, and her eyes closed for a second before she stared right at the spot that he was standing, her dark eyes alight with golden flakes. Her anger left her very quickly then, and she slumped her shoulders, drawing a heavy sigh out of her lips.

"I don't want to deal with you right now, Tom," she said softly. "Please leave."

"Who are you?" he asked her, again, referencing to what just happened and recalling what occurred at the ball. Hermione sat down on her chair and placed her head in her hands, palming her eyes. She seemed wary and tired before inhaling deeply to answer him.

"I wish I could answer your question, Tom."

A few heartbeats passed as Tom stared at her and made the decision to make her one of his. He left the witch to her own thoughts, barely able to contain his excitement at finding a dame as powerful as her. She'd be an asset in his inner circle of knights. The Knights of Walpurgis.

He would let her be for now, but she would be his eventually.

 **End of Part I.**

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Many apologies for this long overdue chapter. Writer's block is a pain. Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy.**

The next morning, Tom made the very conscious decision to slide into the empty space beside Hermione during breakfast at the Ravenclaw table. Although he was well aware that he was breaching the inter-house boundaries which existed during mealtimes, he found that he just did not have it in him to care. He ignored the incredulous stares that those present in the Great Hall gave him in favor of helping himself to the morning spread, shooting a pointed look toward his fellow Slytherins to keep them from gawking at him like blithering idiots.

Hermione glanced away from the tome that she was reading and arched a perfect eyebrow at him. Her honey gaze moved away from him and cut across to her Housemates who shuffled uneasily in their seats as they attempted to return to their long-forgotten conversations. Hushed whispers sounded across the table about the Slytherin prefect that chose to sit away from the snakes' burrow, away from the court he seemed to reign over during each meal time.

Hermione returned to her book and refused to look at him when she spoke.

"Good morning, Tom," she greeted cautiously.

"Good morning, Hermione," he returned rather heartily. "What are you reading?" He scanned the cover of her book. " _Legends of Serpentine Monsters?_ "

Hermione perked in excitement at his observation, and her initial vigilance disappeared almost instantly as she began to babble about the book.

"Yes! It is a fascinating read quite honestly. I began it last night after finishing most of my work for the week and I have yet to put it down for more than a moment's notice. Did you know that Athena _punished_ Medusa because _Poseidon_ forced himself upon Medusa within Athena's _sacred_ temple?"

She spat the word sacred as if she thought of it as anything but.

"And then, later on, when Perseus beheaded her, he gave her head to Athena, who placed it on her _shield_? It's a travesty and absolutely infuriating, truly, how some women will be complacent in perpetuating the patriarchy and have the gall to -"

Hermione stopped talking abruptly and blinked owlishly at Tom, who had continued eating as she talked about her book.

"Why are you sitting here?" she suddenly asked rather bluntly, as if she remembered that this was the one place that he had taken from her and not the other way around. This was a place that was not his and that he did not belong. Her eyes narrowed as if she was attempting to pick him apart to find his truths.

Tom shrugged as he finished chewing the food in his mouth. He took his time with dabbing his mouth primly before setting the cloth napkin onto his lap.

"You told me that you needed a friend," Tom stated matter-of-factly. "I am here to be your friend."

Hermione lowered her book and stared at Tom for what seemed like forever. Her eyes flitted across his face, and he tried to appear genuine. He meant what he said - he would be her friend and then, when she finally trusted him, her Lord.

She seemed hesitant as the long silence stretched between the two of them, and Tom resumed his breakfast, willing to let her take her time.

She was his.

She would understand this fact sooner or later.

Tom could almost see the myriad of thoughts racing across her face as she analyzed him and made a mental note to help her fix that in the future - it would do him no good if one of his could be read so easily.

Finally, a tentative smile stretched across her face, and she radiated like the sun on the first day of spring.

"It would be a pleasure to be friends with you, Tom," she said softly. Tom looked back at her, and she seemed so young at that moment. He quirked his lips in imitation of a smile.

"Likewise."

Hermione slipped a thin, leather bookmark in between the pages of her book before helping herself to breakfast. She returned to her previous ramblings with fervor, and he took note of the things he learned about the witch.

Hermione was very much against sexism and seemed almost militant in the ways that she spoke of it. He could feel her ire as she spoke about the story of Medusa with vehemence, with hatred against a goddess who could not possibly exist. He would have to ensure that his Knights did not make any comments that would set off the tiny witch, lest she castrate them all, and he was very certain that if she were to do so, it would not bode well with the Knights.

She was particular about her food not touching one another and ate meticulously. She bit into her toast in careful, even lines before moving onto her scrambled eggs. She seasoned them evenly with much pepper and a smidge of salt before spooning them into her mouth. When it came to the orange slices, she delicately peeled one side and took a clean bite before continuing. Once her plate was cleared, she took small sips of her pumpkin juice as she talked to him.

Every so often, she would scan the Great Hall with much trepidation as if she was afraid of something before returning to him with a bright smile on her face. He noticed that when her eyes landed on Abbott, they looked like infernos filled with anger and malice before transforming into something deceivingly innocent.

He rather enjoyed that.

She was knowledgeable on a wide berth of subjects as she easily maneuvered from one topic to another. It seemed that she was a know-it-all in everything and readily argued with him. Her candor with him and her quick-wit simultaneously amused him and infuriated him.

"Honestly, Tom, wands are cumbersome, yes, but we use them for a reason. They are a focus for us in which we use to augment our own power. It is our wands that allow us to be _more_ powerful and for our magic to be _more_ precise."

"But what if I could make my magic more precise without the use of a wand? My wand is always with me but what if one day, something were to happen to it and I could not use it for the moment? I'll be a sitting target for someone to do as they please."

She tilted her head, and she did that a lot when she was trying to think through his responses, and nodded.

"That's a valid point."

He wondered when he would finally come to understand this witch who was layered in ways he had yet to uncover.

But it certainly wasn't to be that morning, as breakfast was suddenly over all too soon and the two of them left the Great Hall together where he spotted some of his Knights waiting for him. He directed Hermione towards them.

"Hermione, I would like to introduce you to some of my friends," he gestured to the small group of Slytherins before turning towards them. "Hermione is a new friend from Ravenclaw. I am sure that you all will be seeing each other more frequently."

He watched carefully as they greeted Hermione with chaste kisses on the back of her small hand before she bade them farewell and headed to her Herbology class.

"Tom?" One of the Knights intoned.

"Thelonious," he acknowledged.

"You weren't sitting with us at breakfast this morning and we saw you sitting with her. Should _we_ be sitting with you at the Ravenclaw table, too?"

Tom contemplated on how to answer. He wanted Hermione to develop an amicable relationship with his Knights. But he also wanted -

"No," he responded quietly. "But be aware that she will be your sister in the future, and as such, should be treated appropriately. I have plans for her to join our cause."

"What of her blood? Granger is not a pureblood - "

"That is not a matter for your concern, Nott," Tom dismissed sharply, although Thelonious did raise a valid concern. "Now, I believe we should be off to our classes before we are late."

He left without a goodbye with thoughts of how to integrate her firmly into his inner circle. He needed to figure out what her bloodline was and if he needed to, make adjustments. Their conversations during the morning meal showed him that she was not just as powerful as him, but possibly as intelligent, too.

He couldn't afford to lose someone like her.

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: There is a bonus scene where there will be a shift in POV since this is a filler chapter. These will be rare but please feel free to let me know if you enjoyed it or not.**

The first petrified body was found during dinner a week later.

Tom had invited Hermione to sit with him at the Slytherin table, to which she had graciously agreed. Over the week, their friendship was dominated by academic debates and studying together. Hermione, he discovered, was a control freak and, in preparation for her N.E.W.T.s, had a color-coded schedule created for both him and her.

She handed him the two schedules, his and hers, during the mealtime and explained. "I know I asked you to be my friend, but I'm busy studying and had to re-do my schedule to fit you in. This one is mine and the slots that are not colored in are the times that I am not busy. You can come find me."

She pointed at the seven tiny slots on her timetable before moving on to his. "I hope you don't mind that I was a bit presumptuous and made this for you. I know that sixth-years don't have official examinations but it's good to have a schedule you can fall back on to. I left the times in the evening blank because I'm actually not sure what you do."

Tom stared hard at the schedules and looked up at her to find that she was smiling nervously at him. For the first time in a long time, he was lost for words. He had encountered many different characters in his short life but never had he met someone who felt so compelled to control every minute of their life like Hermione Granger as to create a color-coded schedule.

Tom swallowed.

"These . . . are in fifteen-minute intervals . . . how'd you even know what my schedule would be?"

She stared back at him as if she didn't know how to answer.

"I, um, I poked around here and there."

He sighed and nodded in resignation. "These will be useful. I appreciate them."

Tom tucked the schedules in between his books as Hermione beamed beautifully at him. He could feel the corners of his mouth tugging along of their own accord, but stopped them. Tom glanced to the Knights and found that they seemed confused by his interaction with Hermione.

That was when the chaos happened.

A fourth-year Hufflepuff came hobbling in through the large doors, dragging in the body of a second-year Hufflepuff and crying hysterically. The professors at the Head Table stood up in alarm. Tom remained stoic as they all rushed towards the two Hufflepuffs and whispered hushedly to one another.

The fourth-year was easily heard over the commotion, blubbering loudly. "My brother won't wake up! I found him near the bathroom right outside, surrounded by water. I tried to revive him, but he won't wake up. Please help."

Tom watched as the professors attempted to revive the body and once again felt a smirk forming on his face. This would just be the beginning.

Headmaster Dippet turned to the student body with a somber expression. "Prefects! Please escort your fellow Housemates back to your appropriate dormitories. All rounds are canceled for the time being, and no students should be out of their dorms for the rest of the night."

There was much confusion and fright as students got up and prefects attempted to gather their fellow students. Being a prefect, Tom had to oblige with the headmaster's request but found himself reluctant to do so as his attention turned to his friend, Hermione, with the questionable bloodline and thus, a target.

"Thelonious," he said softly, turning to the wizard to his left.

"Yes, my Lord?" Nott murmured quietly.

"As I have other duties at the moment, please escort Miss Granger back to the Ravenclaw Tower before returning to the dungeon for the evening," Tom commanded. "See to it that she makes it there safely." The dangerous edge to Tom's edict did not go unnoticed.

The brown-haired wizard nodded dutifully before offering his arm to Hermione. She looked to Tom curiously, who tipped his head reassuringly, before delicately placed her hand in the crook of Thelonious' arm.

Tom's eyes followed the two out of the Great Hall before he helped the other prefects with escorting the Slytherins down to the dungeon.

Somewhere along the way, a first-year tugged at Tom's arm, and he found wide, scared eyes looking at him.

He reveled in it.

"Tom," the young boy started. "Is everything going to be okay?"

"What's your name?" Tom asked.

"Xavier Lovegood."

" _You_ will be perfectly safe, Xavier," Tom stated before directing the boy to the crowd. Tom wasn't lying. Lovegood was a pureblood name and as long as purebloods and half-bloods left the beast alone, they would be safe from harm.

* * *

Thelonious Nott was a gentle soul and, much like the witch on his arm, preferred the company of books over people. Like most Slytherins and purebloods, Thelonious had a strong sense of self-preservation and did what would benefit him in the long run. During his formative years at Hogwarts, he kept to himself and observed the existing conditions in the Slytherin House.

The Slytherin House had a reputation for quartering the most extreme of blood supremacists, older families that practiced darker magicks, and pureblood conservatives that maintained tradition over progress, most of which was true. Tom Riddle was the exception to that norm for the first time in centuries, and Thelonious immediately noticed the other wizard's thirst for power.

For many, blood equated power. The purer the bloodline, the more powerful the witch or wizard. However, Thelonious disagreed greatly. Blood did not equal power - in this society, it equaled status more than anything. Many of the pureblood families in Wizarding Britain had important positions in the government and were considered aristocratic families which gave them an elevated status, and sure, that meant they had power, but that wasn't the type of power that Thelonious was talking about.

The type of power that Thelonious thought of was the kind that allowed for an eleven-year-old, half-blood orphan to knock out a seventh year, who was an inbred Black, without any formal training or introduction to magic on his first night of Hogwarts. This type of power was the kind that one was born with and could not be removed from no matter how hard others may try.

The idea that blood equaled power was a silly social construct created by some insecure pureblood centuries ago. No, blood did not equal power, because power was power. Nothing more, nothing less.

Of the three norms that Thelonious took note of, two applied to the Nott family. Thelonious' father was a raging blood supremacist who used their family money to give him power, and his magic was pitiful, truly. Thelonious' mother was a witch obsessed with the old magicks and taught him to recognize magical auras and energies because power is power. Those who could not recognize it were fools.

" _It is a forgotten craft, Theo, but it is of utmost importance. You never, ever, want to cross someone whose aura is more powerful than your own unless you are certain you are capable of manipulating them to do your bidding. Most witches or wizards who are at least competent can_ feel _magic if it is powerful enough, but you, my darling, will learn how to see it."_

Thelonious saw Tom Riddle's magical aura right before Cygnus Black was knocked onto his blood purist arse and, being the self-preserving Slytherin that he was, Thelonious befriended Tom right away. People left them alone because the Notts are part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and held political power. So, he became friends with Tom, showed Tom the ropes of pureblood politics, and watched as the powerful and ambitious young boy become a dangerous young wizard who learned that he was the Heir of Slytherin in their third year.

Then, everything changed and Tom became hellbent on taking over the Wizarding World when they graduated, pushing Thelonious, the self-preserving Slytherin that he was, to become the first Knight of Walpurgis. Tom ignored Thelonious' words that blood did not equate power and that power was power, and Thelonious almost forgot his mother's teachings as well until now.

With a small witch on his arm who reeked of the same power that Tom did, his mother's teachings came back full force and he squinted his eyes at her and there it was. A grey outline, a few shades lighter than the black that surrounded Tom, vibrating intensely, wildly, frantically. _Just like Tom's._

Unlike Thelonious, Tom was not a gentle soul and because of that, the witch before him scared him more than Tom ever did. Thelonious had never seen Tom be as gentle with anyone as he had been with this witch. This made her more powerful than Tom because she had the potential to wrap a formidable and terrifying wizard around her delicate little fingers in addition to her own power.

Yes, she was, perhaps, even more terrifying than Tom in the way she smiled brightly as if she wasn't aware that she could make the world tremble with a word to Tom and a snap of her own fingers. Maybe she wasn't aware yet.

As he ensured that the witch entered the Ravenclaw Tower without a single hair out of place, Thelonious decided that befriending the witch would be the best way to preserve himself. After all, power was power and if that meant forgoing blood, then he would turn his cheek to stay alive.

* * *

 **Author's Note: As always, shout out to my amazing beta, devlin085, for editing this chapter for me. Find me on tumblr under the same penname for fun one-shots.**

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: As always, thank you to my beta, devlin085, for editing this chapter for me. I hope you all enjoy and leave me feedback!**

Two more attacks occurred that week, totaling to three students who were petrified and laying in the Infirmary. No one knew what to do, and although the staff of Hogwarts worked diligently to revive the students, their attempts were unsuccessful as they had no idea what they were dealing with. Parents had yet to be informed of what was occurring.

Headmaster Dippet scheduled an emergency staff and prefects meeting the day after the first attack. He told everyone to keep calm and to reassure the students that the staff had it under control, that they already suspected what was occurring.

It was all a lie. No one really knew what was going on. Only Tom knew, and a part of him had a strong desire to publicly take credit for his ingenious, but he couldn't afford to be expelled - to ruin the image that he so carefully curated throughout the years. There was much more to be done, and when he was through, then he would claim this act of terror as his. The grand schemes of a seventeen-year-old boy who had been planning it since his third year in school. So, he sat back and silently basked in it all.

The entire student body was terrified, moving in tight huddles from one place to another, never lingering in the hallways like they used to. Everyone obeyed the strict curfew that had been implemented and was in bed much earlier than before, hoping their bed curtains could shield them from whatever malice was harming their peers. Everyone spoke in hushed whispers as if anything louder would draw unnecessary attention towards them, making them the next target. Everyone, that is, except Hermione Granger.

As the week came to an end and Tom, fearing nothing and high off of his success, strolled throughout the castle in the early hours of the day, he found her in the Astronomy Tower once again.

He wasn't even surprised.

The witch seemed to have the tenacity of a Gryffindor at times.

Tom took a seat beside her.

Without prompting, Hermione pointed a finger to the sky and traced a constellation.

"I've been having odd dreams for a while now, but lately, I have been dreaming of Virgo - the second brightest in the heavens," Hermione said as a way of greeting. "It bothers me because I don't believe in any of it. Astrology, I mean. Or divination. So why dream of a constellation?"

Tom learned by now that Hermione was different and decided to just play along with whatever quirks her brilliant mind spat forward.

"Represents a daughter of a goddess or a harvest goddess. Virgo is also the zodiac for those born towards the end of August until the end of September," Tom supplied.

He watched as she smiled, although it did not reach her eyes. "Do you read your daily horoscope, Tom?" she attempted to joke, but it seemed forced.

Something about her was off tonight - like the night in the kitchens.

"Are you a Virgo?"

She didn't answer his question.

"This all seems so familiar," Hermione spoke slowly. "As if I experienced this before."

Tom made a face and wondered if something had happened to her. "You see the stars each night, Hermione. Of course, it seems familiar."

"The last three victims were all Muggleborn students. Does that not seem suspicious to you?"

He realized then that she wasn't talking about the constellation anymore.

"Perhaps the Muggleborns do not know how to properly defend themselves like the other students."

"Muggleborn _students_ , Tom, not the Muggleborns," Hermione corrected him, blankly. "Besides, the most recent one was a seventh-year. Hogwarts' curriculum must be failing if someone so close to graduation cannot defend themselves."

"The curriculum does need to be changed," he agreed. "It should be much more challenging."

Hermione turned and looked at him for the first time that night. She was beautiful, under the moonlight, and he thought he would never tire of looking at her. Perhaps she was the daughter of a goddess, shining so brightly despite the sadness that shrouded her. But the way she gazed at him made him feel uncomfortable, as if she was stripping him of all the layers he surrounded himself with and was looking into the depths of his soul.

"You aren't scared," Hermione said, offhandedly, with no inflection in her tone. "You're not scared like everyone else. The student body is about as petrified as those who are in the Infirmary, Tom, but you're not. Why is that?"

Tom checked and made sure that his wand was still in his holster.

"You don't seem to be scared either. You're out and about without a care for the safety precautions put in place."

"I told you already," she sighed exasperatedly. "I can take care of myself."

Hermione's eyes widened abruptly, and her face went white as if she had realized something with her statement, which she probably had.

Tom couldn't help himself.

"Your face is an open book, Hermione, and you need to learn how to control it," he said sharply. "I can read your emotions too easily with the way you just let it flit across your face and others can, too. They will use it against you, and _I will not have it_."

She ignored him. "You knew," she whispered, "that's why you warned me. You knew something like this would happen. What is going on, Tom?"

Tom laughed sardonically. "You're supposed to be a bright witch. Figure it out."

Whatever ire she felt about his role in the attacks shifted as he assaulted her pride. He saw what his words did to her as her eyes narrowed, thoughts flitting back and forth across her face.

"You said there may be creatures roaming about, so it's technically not you," Hermione hesitated before looking him in the eye sharply. "Are you a monster, Tom?" she asked, and a sick smile stretched her lips.

He enjoyed that look very much, despite knowing that she could unravel all of his plans if he didn't play his cards right. The energy in the room grew volatile, and the witch was an enigma, switching back and forth from sin and innocence.

"Aren't we all?" he responded to her question.

Hermione stood up and began pacing, one hand on her hip as she tugged her hair with the other one.

"Petrified," she muttered to herself, "but unable to be revived by a simple _rennervate_. He said _creatures_ , though, so it can't be a person. He's dramatic, Hermione, it could be _him_."

"It wasn't me, technically," he clued her, ignoring her snub. She shook her head as she continued to think aloud.

"If not him, then... what?"

As if the gods were wanting to help her, a light rain began and Hermione stared up, allowing the cool mist to dampen her face.

"Water," she stated more loudly, confidently. "There was water where all of the victims were found."

"Very good, Hermione."

She glared at him.

Minutes passed and she continued to pace, speaking softly to herself, laughing at one point as she joked, "did you happen to find Medusa?" before her eyes lit up in delight.

"A basilisk, you're using a basilisk! But how is it traveling throughout the school unnoticed? Surely, something as large as that would be noticed."

She stopped pacing and tilted her head as the pieces fell into place for her.

"The basilisk is navigating through the pipes, which is why there's water at the scene. The victims aren't dead because they see a reflection of the basilisk in the water! But why? Why Muggleborns? And how?"

"Maybe I'll tell you another time," Tom told her before raising his wand. "Now, I'm afraid, I'll have to remove your memory of this exchange."

Imagine his surprise when she rolled her eyes and jerked his wand out of his hand before tossing it carelessly to the ground.

"You will do no such thing," Hermione bit out.

As beautiful and brilliant as the witch before him was, Tom had quite enough of her insolence. What happened next was inevitable. Tom, after all, had a god complex, and he loathed the fact that she did not bow down to him as everyone else did, although, it would take him a while to admit that he liked being treated as _her_ equal.

Tom's long and elegant fingers stretched out toward his wand, and he silently summoned it. As soon as it was held securely in his grasp, a bright, red spell emitted from it, forcing Hermione to drop to the ground before rolling over to dodge it. She got up and stayed crouch to the ground, defensively.

" _What_ are you doing?!"

He answered her question with the same spell that she sprang away from once more and he felt her magic snap in agitation. He ignored how right it felt brushing against his own magic, as if it belonged.

"Are you using the _cruciatus_ curse?" Hermione exclaimed. Again, he refused to answer her as he shot spell after spell, giving up on the Unforgivable curse and wanting to just make her _hurt_ and _pay_ for the disrespect she had shown him since the beginning of the school year.

The sound of his wand falling to the ground played over and over again in his head - his attempt at befriending her and his admiration for her long-forgotten. As the two of them continued to battle, Tom's frustration grew tenfold. He had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that Hermione was holding back on him. She had yet to send any offensive spells at him, choosing instead to only defend herself from him.

The duel ended in a draw and Tom held his wand loosely by his side, panting as he watched her warily.

"That was _completely_ unnecessary!" Hermione scolded him as if he was a child, cocking up her hip and placing her hands on each side. " _Bloody hell_ , Tom, you tried to use an Unforgivable on me, _twice_! Are you crazy? Do you _want_ to get caught?"

"What?" he asked, completely confused. She wasn't angry with him exactly, perhaps irritated that he tried to torture her, but not angry.

At that moment, Tom was certain that he would never understand the witch before him and was not sure if he wanted to at all anymore.

"Did you think I would just run off and blabber on about your plans? Who would actually take me seriously? I'm an amnesiac who's memories make no coherent _sense_ and has made the most gifted mind specialists in all of Britain run for the hills. So, tell _me_ , Tom. What are you doing and why?"

Tom stared at Hermione long and hard, a thousand thoughts firing rapidly. Finally, he spoke and the ease in which he confessed his lineage and plan to her surprised him.

"I never took you as a blood supremacist, Tom. You should know by now that I'm more powerful than the average pureblood and so are you," she looked at him in a way that he did not like, as if he were someone that was not even worthy of her time, "but I guess looks can be deceiving."

"What are you?" he asked her, and she gave him an affronted look.

"I am not a what," she snapped, irritatedly and she seemed more like herself at that moment than she had all evening. "I am a _who_. If you are asking about my bloodline, then ask about my bloodline. I'm not a pureblood, that's for certain."

Tom's forehead creased in confusion. "Do you not know?"

Hermione smiled sadly at him. " _You're_ supposed to be smart, Tom. After all of our run-ins, haven't you realized by now that I have amnesia? I can't recall any details of who I am, and the memories that I do get back are terrifying. If I was a pureblood, surely some family would have claimed me by now."

"But the information that Abraxas gave me . . ." he trailed off. Hermione shrugged.

"Headmaster Dippet told me he would take care of me. I guess that was his way of taking care of it."

Silence rang between the two of them, and Tom was conflicted. Bloodlines meant something to him, and he was the heir of Slytherin. He drew his power from this very fact, but the witch was correct. Despite his filthy, Muggle father's blood which ran through his veins, Tom knew for a fact that he was more powerful than his pureblood associates.

 _No_ , Tom thought to himself, _blood is important, and it means power._

Tom startled when Hermione stepped up to him and lightly placed her cool hand against his cheek. He forgot how to breathe for a moment.

"You keep your beast away from me or I will kill it whether or not we're friends. Do you understand me?"

She didn't wait for his response as she left him in the Astronomy Tower feeling disgust, wonder, anger, and confusion.

What to do with the witch with the questionable bloodline who defied his power, position, and ideas, was apparently an amnesiac, and held her own against him in a fight without firing a single offensive spell?

Tom was not sure and he hated her for making him question himself.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I feel iffy about this chapter, so please provide me with feedback!

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	10. Chapter 10

The sight of the two of them together the next evening, sitting in the nook that was his, disturbed Tom more than he would have liked to admit.

He wasn't sure what it was about the image that unsettled him - how handsome they would be as a couple if they were to become one or how some ugly, roaring beast inside of him seemed to want to rip the other male into shreds for sitting so close to her, as if they were familiar with each other in an intimate way.

It was enough for him to forgive her for last night.

Tom approached the table and cleared his throat, watching as Hermione startled at the sound as she looked up while Theo just slowly raised his head, standing to greet Tom.

"What's going on here?" He asked, hating how the question sounded the moment he intoned it.

Thelonious, one of his favorites of all of the Knights, and perhaps, one of his cleverest, tilted his head slightly at the question.

Hermione answered him, "we're studying. There's an exam tomorrow in Arithmancy and Theo suggested that we go over our notes together."

"I see. Curfew begins soon. May I escort you back to your dormitory?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow at his formality before she replied, "no, you may not. We're not finished."

"I must insist, Miss Granger."

She raised both of her eyebrows at him while a smile tugged at her lips. "Attempting to make amends, then, Mister Riddle? As I said - no. If you would really like to escort me back, you'll have to wait. Teddy and I have another chapter to go through before we're finished."

The nickname rolled so easily off her tongue that he couldn't help himself. "Teddy?"

"Yes, Thelonious Nott. I'm sure the two of you are acquainted," she snapped, impatiently, "seeing as you're the one who introduced him to me."

Thelonious, perhaps noting the sudden tension in the atmosphere, began gathering his belongings. "Tom's right," he agreed, "it is getting late and since he offered, I'll be heading out now. You're brilliant, Hermione. Don't stress too hard about the test tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll make sure to sit beside you," she gritted out in irritation.

Tom watched Hermione watch Thelonious leave before she turned to glare at him.

"Would you care to explain that?"

"No, I would not care at all," he returned, his tone flat, waiting for her to gather her items. "I don't have all night, Hermione. Pack up your things."

"Whatever that is, whatever it is that you do that makes all of your _friends_ fall in line like obedient guard dogs, won't work on me, Tom. Don't presume that you can just order me around."

"I wasn't," he snarked. "But if you thought it was an order, maybe it's because you feel naturally inclined to follow me."

Hermione gave him a disgusted snort, and he was satisfied as she began putting her books and notes away meticulously.

"Don't you have a beast to tame?"

"Isn't that what I'm doing right now?"

Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Oh, sod off, Riddle. I don't even want to start with you. You tried to _torture_ me not even twenty-four hours ago and not even five minutes ago, you played some weird pissing game with Teddy."

Whatever amusement Tom had felt disappeared at the familiar nickname she called Thelonious.

"Don't call him that," he ordered without thinking.

Her face morphed into something that looked like wicked delight, and Tom would be lying if he said that that expression on her face didn't do funny things to him, like make him want to claim her as his or kiss her until her lips were swollen and her cheeks were flushed.

It made no coherent sense because Tom was certain that he hated this witch, and he only sought out her company for the power swirling beneath her tan skin and that brilliant mind of hers. She was infuriating, and he didn't think he'd ever be sure of what to make of it, the inner turmoil of hating her and being obsessed with her.

"And why is that, Tom? What is it about Teddy and I that makes you so upset?"

He took a step towards her sitting form, bending low to her ear, his voice a seductive caress. "I have plans for you, _witch_ , as I do for _Teddy_ , as you have deigned to call him. That is why I have asked of you to avoid my beast and why I will now ask of you to cease any further relationship with Teddy dearest or you might find that he will no longer exist."

Hermione reared back from him, her eyes wide, and he was surprised that she seemed furious with him rather than fearful.

He seemed to be making a habit of assuming things about her.

"You will find, _Tom_ , that I don't follow orders well, and that if anything happens to Teddy, you will regret the day you have met me. I will continue my very much _platonic_ relationship with him, thank you. Besides, jealousy doesn't suit you. It mars that handsome face of yours."

She stood up with a delicate sniff and shoved her bag into his chest before leaving the nook.

"Weren't you supposed to escort me back to my towers, Mister Riddle?" She called over her shoulder to him.

As he quickly made his way to her, he wasn't sure if he wanted to feed her to the beast that he currently commanded or make a queen out of her.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what his answer would really be either.

* * *

It was clear to Thelonius, now, where the power truly laid.

Tom is, of course, one of the most powerful wizards that he had ever met in his entire life but the power laid with Hermione Granger.

Under the guise of leaving, Thelonious watched their interaction, intrigued by the dynamic between his Dark Lord and the witch, who Thelonious was certain now would be his Dark Lady if Tom finally realized his affections for her.

The threat on his life did not go unnoticed and neither did the protection that Hermione offered him with her statement. What was most surprising to Thelonious, however, was Tom's lack of response towards Hermione's threat and the quickness at which he followed after her without hesitation when she walked out.

Perhaps, it was not so surprising, seeing as one of the younger followers made the mistake of commenting on Hermione's more physical assets around Tom and the ensuing mess left much to be desired about the fifth-year's future health.

But still, even Thelonious, who prided himself on being attuned to Tom's moods and on being one of his favorites, always spoke respectfully, even if they had differing opinions on certain subject matter. He would never dare to speak so callously to Tom the way that Hermione did.

Tom tolerated her lip toward him.

"What are you doing?" A voice called out to him.

Thelonious turned to find Abraxas looking at him oddly. He straightened.

"She's going to bring about some changes," he responded softly to one of his oldest friends as the sound of Tom and Hermione bantering faded.

"Hermione? What about it?"

"He favors her and she him. She has a darkness that might rival his own but I don't think she's quite aware of it at the moment. She is more dangerous than him. The Dark Lord may be the crashing wave that knocks you off your feet, but she'll be the gentle tide that drags you further into the ocean until you've realized that you're too far from the shore and might never get back."

"But her blood -"

Thelonious cut Abraxas off with a fearsome look. "Rid yourself of those old prejudices, Brax, and rid yourself of them soon if you are smart. That is one of the changes that she will bring, and Tom may not yet realize that blood has little to do with power, but when he does, he'll expect us to come to heel immediately. If you even so much as look at her as if she is beneath you because of her blood, he'll string you from your feet and gut you with his own bare hands."

Thelonious watched as Abraxas swallowed, minutes of silence passing between the two of them.

"Do you really think he will be with her?" Abraxas asked, his voice a mere whisper.

Thelonious nodded solemnly. "He treasures power, and there's a handful of people in the world with power like her. If he is smart, he'll never let her go."

"You're not answering the question, Theo."

"She'll never be okay with being a dame like us, and he'll do anything to keep her."

Abraxas breathed in deeply before letting out a long sigh. "My father won't like it, and some of the other families might struggle with this. We'll need to convince them that she is worth putting behind centuries-old prejudices for."

"We'll wait for Tom's command," was Thelonious' only response.

"Lady Hermione does have a certain ring to it, doesn't it? Lord Voldemort is fearsome, Lady Hermione is elegant, and together they'll make the world as they wish, won't they?"

"It's not our place to question him. Or her. Only when we're asked to."

"Gods save the Lady," Abraxas called out wryly.

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**

 **Author's Note: God save the queen, amirite? I am spending my semester abroad and as the program I am on seems to have a very easy workload, updates should be returning more frequently. Thank you for reading and reviewing and enjoy!**


	11. Chapter 11

The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement as Tom walked in for lunch after a doubles Potion class with the Gryffindors, a stark contrast from the quiet murmurings that had begun after the first attack five weeks ago.

He caught onto whispers of Hermione and Octavian Rookwood's names as he sat down and turned to look at Theo.

"What happened?" he asked without preamble, perhaps much sharper than he should have.

Thelonious gave him a small smile.

"The seventh year Defense Against the Dark Arts class decided to have a dueling segment today. Hermione and Octavian were paired."

Theo paused as if contemplating his next words and Tom, fearing the worst, as Rookwood was his best duellist, snapped at Thelonious and the tight leash on his magic flared ever so slightly in irritation.

"Out with it!"

Thelonious gave him that small smile, again, as if he was a proud older brother.

"You know how Rookwood is - he likes a good fight so he tried to rile her up. Rookwood taunted her about her blood and told her she was an unwanted orphan whose presence probably led to their death. She completely lost it. He kept up with her for about fifteen minutes before she blasted magic at him. There wasn't a spell, just pure magic, and it knocked him onto his arse. He has a pretty bad concussion at the moment but he retaliated. They're both in the Infirmary."

Tom stood as he processed the information before making his way to the Infirmary. He found Thelonious on his right side as he made his way through the corridors.

"She bested Rookwood, my Lord," Thelonious murmured quietly as they got closer. "Madame Wicke said that it will take a week for him to recover."

He stopped mid-stride and turned abruptly towards the brunet man. Rookwood, and occasionally, Thelonious were the only ones of his Knights that Tom ever bothered practicing dueling with anymore. They took hits without complaints and on good days, they could pass as competent and powerful wizards.

Tom inhaled deeply through his nose. "A week?"

Something warm and akin to pride spread through Tom's chest at the fact that someone he'd hand-selected and was currently acquiring was able to do so much damage to his best fighter.

He understood Thelonious' smiles now.

"Yes, my Lord," Thelonious responded in a tone that suggested he knew just as much.

"And what about her?"

"She sustained some minimal damage, scratches, and bruises. I escorted her to the Infirmary and waited for you at lunch."

Tom stared at Thelonious for a second.

"Thank you," he said solemnly, quite unsure why the conversation took such a serious tone or why he felt the need to thank Theo.

Thelonious gave him another one of those damned smiles. "I live to serve."

And with that, the duo continued to the Infirmary, Tom opening the double-doors wandlessly before marching straight to the bed with the bushy-haired witch, ignoring all of the Petrified students in there with her.

She looked up with a fierce scowl before she realized who her visitor was, and her expression changed to beam beautifully as she took him in.

"I thought you were Madame Wicke about to tell me I had to stay even longer."

"How are you?" Tom asked.

Hermione sighed.

"I am perfectly fine. I had _one_ bruise on my cheekbone and some scratches on my neck, but she said that the magical blast should have taken a lot of my strength so she wants to keep me for monitoring. He's worse off."

Hermione lifted her chin in the other direction before she continued, "you should probably go check on your friend. He hasn't woken up, and Madame Wicke has kept him in a magically-induced coma because she has to regrow all of his ribs."

"His ribs?" Tom repeated as Hermione smiled like a Cheshire-cat.

"I had the opportunity to stun him, but I chose to send birds at him. He told me that I had a bleeding heart which is what will get me killed, and I told him that at least I have a heart before vanishing his ribcage. He panicked and sent me flying towards the wall. My magic lashed out and knocked him out."

"So, you almost killed him?"

Hermione shrugged, toying with the end of her blanket. "The professor placed a stasis spell on him. Headmaster Dippet has already talked to me and told me that I'm now at risk for expulsion. Considering that. . ."

She trailed off as she looked over at Thelonious before the air around them started humming, and Tom realized that she had placed some sort of privacy spell around them.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Considering that I am an amnesiac in a war that we are losing, and I showed up on the doorsteps of Hogwarts almost half dead. He said that Rookwood's father is a powerful man and is very upset that I was allowed into the school when no one knows who I am or my background. Lord Rookwood believes that I may be a spy for Grindelwald due to the dark nature of the spell I used that vanished Octavian's ribcage."

"Are you?"

Tom turned to glare at Thelonious for having the audacity of asking the question.

Hermione gave a bitter laugh, choosing to stare down Tom as she answered, "I wouldn't even know. I don't think so. He has spies everywhere and if I defected, I don't think I would have gone unnoticed this long. I'd probably be dead."

"So what are we going to do? We can't just allow you to be expelled, 'Mione."

"I struck a deal with Headmaster Dippet, Teddy. Don't worry about it."

"My family has just as much sway as -"

"What deal did you strike, Hermione?" Tom questioned, cutting of Thelonioua.

"I've been caught breaking curfew several times this school year, and I have lost my temper a couple of times, like with Abbott. I've served detention for those, and Headmaster Dippet has covered for me, seeing as he admitted me into Hogwarts despite some protests from the Wizengamot, so he'd like to cover for his own arse. I cannot have any more infractions for the rest of the school year. If I'm out a minute after curfew, then I'm out of Hogwarts for good. I have to keep a tight lid on my magic and my temper as well. If my magic flares and he feels it, I'm gone."

"So he's asking you to be a normal student," Tom stated wryly.

"Not all of us are good actors, Riddle," Hermione snapped, crossing her arms over her chest and turning her head the other way.

"You don't have to be," Thelonious replied, Tom watching carefully as Hermione's face softened perceptibly. "I'll help you out, and you have the full backing of the House of Nott."

Something changed in the air again with Thelonious' statement, and Tom realized both the significance of the statement and the specific language that was used. A bond had formed between Hermione and Thelonious in the same way that Thelonious had vowed himself to Tom.

"Thank you, Thelonious," Hermione voiced quietly, though there was strength behind her statement. "I appreciate it."

Theo tilted his head forward at Hermione and then Tom before dismissing himself from their presence.

"I don't have time for your smartass comments, Riddle, so either you sit in that seat over there and look pretty or you go," Hermione teased before he could get out a word.

"Pot calling the kettle black, then, Granger?"

"Perhaps."

Tom took a seat beside Hermione and took a good look at her. The hospital gown washed out her tan skin, and the bed she was in made her seem infinitely smaller than usual.

He didn't like it.

"You held back on me the other night," Tom observed. "Why?"

Hermione's lips turned up as she fiddled with the corner of her blanket. "I didn't want to hurt you."

He looked up and stared at her face, taking in her features, trying to find any deceit hiding behind her clever eyes.

"People like you and me, Tom, we've been hurt enough by the cards we've been dealt in life. I would have taken no pleasure in causing you further harm. I don't want to hurt you," she reiterated.

He was certain that she had bewitched him as he found the damning words bubbling up from his throat before he could stop himself. "I apologize, Hermione."

She smiled at him again, and his chest tightened almost painfully. No one else received ones like that from her. "I already forgave you."

He gave her a smile of his own before he settled into his seat and began to do his work with her by his side, occasionally offering her input while she did her own work.

When she fell asleep, he put aside his books and watched her, wondering what it meant that Thelonious would bound his family to serve and protect her. An odd feeling settled in his stomach as he realized that she trusted him enough to fall asleep around him and that he didn't want to betray this precarious thing that she had gifted him.

Incoherent nothings fell from her lips as she began to squirm in her sleep. Tom reached out his hand to trace the curve of her face, marveling at how her skin felt divine underneath his palm. Hermione settled momentarily before she began shaking violently. He withdrew his hand quickly as she sat up.

"Harry!" she cried out. He looked at her, and her eyes seemed full of pain before a blank expression fell over her face.

"Who's Harry?" Tom asked quietly. Hermione jerked as if noticing his presence for the first time.

"I - I'm not quite sure," she hesitated, before piercing his eyes with her own. Those brown eyes changed again as he saw only a pool of misery and a quiet sadness, "but I think I may have loved him."

He flinched.

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	12. Chapter 12

Tom knew he was overreacting.

Hermione was free to like or love whomever she wanted, but the fact that she may or may not have a lover somewhere out there, searching for her and waiting for her was disconcerting.

The idea that she may be someone else's made him take a step back to keep his distance, refusing to cross the clearly drawn line of being just her friend. Besides, it didn't matter to him at all, being a friend of sorts. He only sought her out to give her a place in his Inner Circle, and there was nothing wrong with wanting a powerful witch by your side when you planned on staging a coup somewhere down the line.

He took to having his meals in the library or in the kitchens, not because he was avoiding her, but because he was getting busier - there hadn't been an attack in weeks, and the student body was becoming complacent in their false sense of security. However, Tom's original plans with using the basilisk had shifted as he realized that Hermione may not be of pure blood, and he wouldn't be able to guarantee her safety, especially when she refused to take heed to any of his precautions.

He still remembered what she looked like on that hospital bed and he didn't want to see that again in a long time or ever again if he could help it . . . because she was a friend - his friend, to be more concise. And, well, Tom always took good care of what was his.

From what he heard from his peers and other associates, Hermione and Thelonious' friendship was becoming an item of gossip and some speculated that the Notts must be drawing up a betrothal contract for her. Being in the same year and in many of the same classes, the two spent a good amount of time together and Thelonious escorted Hermione to and from the Ravenclaw Tower as much as he could.

The rumors had merit.

However, unlike Hermione's confession, Tom paid these rumors no mind knowing that this was a result of what had occurred when she was in the hospital. Thelonious was there to assure everyone else's safety from her temper and rude self. It also didn't hurt that Hermione's position within his Circle was firmly cemented with her close relationship with Thelonious. All of the Knights knew of the hierarchy, and Thelonious and Octavian were as close to his right-hand men as any.

Being under the protection of the House of Nott would prevent any rising conflict or protests due to her unknown blood status. In turn, Tom wouldn't have to lay claim to her like a barbarian - not that there was anything to claim seeing as she was in love with another man named Harry.

He didn't care.

Truly, he didn't.

The Easter Break had begun, and Tom was in his nook in the library, attempting to get ahead in his classes.

He didn't know when she approached him, only that her soft and calm voice was a balm to his nerves when she spoke. "You've been avoiding me, Tom."

He defended himself immediately. "No, I haven't. I've just been busy."

Hermione snorted as she rolled her eyes. "Don't lie to me, Riddle. I know your schedule, I made one for you, remember? In fifteen minute intervals. And now that I know you better, I know that you finish all of your work and studies at least a week before it's due, and most of your evenings are free from eight to ten, around the same time that I am free. You've been avoiding me for a little over three weeks."

He didn't respond, staring resolutely at the parchment before him until the words blurred.

Her cool hands touched his suddenly, and he became hyper-aware of the light scent of her peonies perfume.

"Is this because of what I said?"

"Of course not," Tom scoffed, already knowing where this might be heading and not liking it one bit.

"You left very quickly afterward."

He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You practically high-tailed your way out of there the moment you realized I wasn't in any immediate danger."

Tom shook his head. "I had class."

Her eyes narrowed as she stared him down before she sighed. There was silence as Hermione took a seat beside Tom and unpacked all of her items. She had just reached for one of her textbooks when she stopped and turned to Tom abruptly.

"Would you like to see?" she asked softly. "What I saw? With Legilimency, I mean."

Tom hesitated for a split-second before he nodded.

"Ward the room, then," she requested as she adjusted her body to face his on the cushioned bench. He did the same once the nook was sufficiently warded.

Hermione reached out and laced her fingers through his, clearing her throat as her face flushed red. "It's easier this way," she stated primly.

"I didn't say anything," he teased as his observed how small her hands were in his own. "Are you ready?"

She gave him a brief nod and he began.

 _The first thing Tom noticed was that he felt overwhelmed by the sheer amount of emotions that Hermione was undergoing._

 _She was terrified, defiant, anxious, and sad._

 _Lost, confused, broken._

 _Her body was full of pain, and it felt like her ankle may be broken. They were standing on the ruins of a place that seemed like Hogwarts, except he was certain that it couldn't be because Hogwarts hadn't seen any of the war yet._

 _His eyes focused on the object of Hermione's emotions. A broken body laid in the arms of a half-giant who looked like an older version of Hagrid._

" _Harry Potter is dead!" A high-pitch voice exclaimed and Tom turned to the sound of the voice, feeling repulsion in addition to Hermione's own emotions at the sight of the man._

 _Tom felt a sharp pain cleave at his chest, and he turned to look at Hermione. Despite the pain that she felt earlier, she had been tall and strong, but now, she was being supported by a gangly, freckled redhead._

Tom reared back and stared at Hermione.

"What was that?"

Hermione was shaking, and he reflexively squeezed her fingers in his own.

"I don't know. No one knows."

"We'll find out, Hermione," he promised, and it may have been more selfish on his part because he needed to know what this war she had been in was, but he couldn't help but feel like he could help her heal.

And learn whether or not she was in love with a man named Harry Potter who may or may not be dead.

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**


	13. Chapter 13

A tentative relationship was re-established between Hermione and Tom when he gifted her a journal to write her memories down with.

He watched as she ran her thumb over the initials that he had inscribed on the back of the soft leather.

She turned to look at him with those warm eyes. "Thank you, Tom."

He smiled.

* * *

Tom found her once more in the Astronomy Tower, soaking in the soft lights of the moon. He sighed heavily, not even surprised at this point that she'd be breaking the rules even though something as minor as this could lead to her expulsion.

"You really do need to stop staring at me when you find me and just join me. I don't bite," she called out. "Besides, you're the one who was throwing dark curses at me the last time we were up here."

"Many apologies, my lady," he quipped as he took a spot beside her.

Despite his initial reservations earlier in the year, Tom finally acknowledged that this place was no longer just his.

Her eyes were on his as she smirked at him. "Oh, so I'm a lady now?"

He did his best to ignore her as she blatantly stared at him. He felt her catalog him as if he was a rare artifact from Borgin and Burkes, and a part of him quite enjoyed it. It drove him mental that the other witches in the school gawked, only interested in the face that he was certain was his Muggle father's. But when Hermione looked at him, it felt more like she couldn't quite put a finger on what to think of him.

"What are you staring at?" He asked.

He heard her sigh contentedly.

"I could very easily fall in love with you, Tom Riddle," she stated matter-of-factly.

Tom blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked.

His mind went blank, and he wasn't quite sure what to say or what to do.

"You don't have to answer me." Her voice was soft as if she was coaxing a wild animal. "It's just an observation I've made. You don't need to be told this, but you are intelligent and charismatic. You're also rude, but I think I may have you beaten there. You are the first person - and I say this even knowing I cannot recall the previous people in my life - to not belittle my brains. I enjoy your friendship. You know, when you're not trying to torture me, that is."

Their eyes met and hers were bright with affection before a sly smile found itself on her face.

"It's quite unfortunate, however, that you find my blood dirtier than yours . . ." she trailed off and tilted her head before slowly returning her attention to the night sky.

Tom had made a decision - a choice, rather. Killing Mudbloods - _Muggleborns_ \- would no longer be a priority in his campaign. In fact, harming Mud - _Muggleborns_ \- was no longer anything he had interests, and he didn't care what it would take, but he'd make sure that his followers understood this as well.

Muggleborns would be treated as equals in his future. They would be elevated in society, and he would damn anyone who tried to tell him any differently.

Tom thought himself an intelligent, young wizard, and he knew that Hermione was the rule, not the exception, in terms of how Muggleborns truly were _the same as any other witch or wizard._ The only thing that made Hermione the exception was how intelligent and clever she was - the perfect asset for his future army.

* * *

He walked quickly to the girl's lavatory on the second floor, determined to talk to the basilisk.

Salazar Slytherin had it all wrong, and Tom would restore honor and glory to the Slytherin name the right way no matter the cost.

Tom disillusioned himself before entering the lavatory and making his way to the secret entrance. He stepped up to the sink and took a deep breath.

"Open," he hissed in Parseltongue and waited patiently for the Chamber to open. As soon as it did, he commanded for the basilisk to come to him. The sound of his basilisk's scales moving against the ancient pipes sent shivers down his spine. Tom turned towards the bathroom's entrance to avoid eye contact with the beast and to ensure that no one entered.

The basilisk greeted him and Tom opened his mouth, about to tell it that it should no longer attack Muggleborn students, but before he could, he heard the telltale sound of a lock clicking and the shuffling of feet - someone _else_ was there.

"Leave!" Tom ordered, but he was too late.

A piercing scream reverberated throughout the bathroom before being cut off short with a loud thud. Tom whirled around and saw the lifeless body of the fourth-year Ravenclaw, Myrtle Warren.

The basilisk hissed in victory before it retreated back to its Chamber.

Tom stood in shock - this wasn't part of the plan.

He always thought himself capable of murder, but this was completely unexpected and ruined _everything_.

"Tom?" A light-voiced intoned.

His mind went blank again, and he seemed to be transformed into stone at the sound of Hermione's voice. He felt her magic flare wildly in worry, but not fear, interestingly, as she took in the scene. His legs and body seemed incapable of moving as he stood there shell-shocked.

"Tom, what did you do?" Hermione's panicked tone rang in the silence. He stared at the body of the Mudblood - _no, the Muggleborn witch._

"Finite," Hermione whispered. The moment she spotted him, she ran to his side and tugged at his arm, her cool hands pulling him out of his reverie as he began to think quickly.

"We need to get you out of here. I'm certain that half of the school heard her scream - we need to get you out of her before someone catches us!" She said urgently. She pulled at his arm again. "Come on!"

He placed his hand over hers to pause her as the plan began to formulate in his head. As inconvenient as this was, he couldn't miss the opportunity to make the situation a better one.

"Wait," he intoned. "Wait, I need to think."

"You can think when we're not at the scene of a crime, Thomas!" Hermione snapped in irritation. "We need to go, now! Do you want to go to Azkaban?"

In a manner that was much calmer than how he felt, Tom asked, "Hermione, have you ever heard of Horcruxes?"

He felt her still at his question, and her magic churned in a low, desperate hum. He turned his head to look at her and she stared at him with wide eyes before closing them.

A low laugh bubbled from her throat before she gave him a look of disbelief. "For Morgana's fucking sake, are you using this as an opportunity to make one?"

At his silence, she scoffed, "Gods, you're so fucked in the head."

He watched as she cast a strong Notice-Me-Not charm and a silencing spell on the door before striding to the body with quick and confident steps. She kneeled beside the Warren girl and cast a diagnostic charm. Hermione looked over her shoulder at him.

"You have less than five minutes to complete the ritual. Get on with it."

Tom blinked several times in shock before getting to work. He'd question her later. Rolling up his sleeves, he pulled out his wand and kneeled beside her.

"Grab my diary out of my bag, Hermione," he commanded before he heard her rifle through his messenger bag, handing him the soft, leather-bound notebook.

With Hermione's assistance, he carefully maneuvered a part of his soul into the diary. He spasmed with pain, his hand gripping his wand tightly in fear that it would slip from his grasp. His vision went in and out as he struggled with the dark ritual, and he was certain that he would have passed out if it weren't for Hermione's cool hand intertwined with his free hand.

"You're almost done," she murmured soothingly at one point.

As soon as he was done, she helped him up before casting a disillusionment spell on the two of them.

He'd actually done it.

And it was made possible because of her.

Tom took another look at the other witch as Hermione dragged him out of the lavatory and into an empty classroom before the world went dark.

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**

 **Author's Note** : Almost done with part two now! The pace of this chapter was very different from the previous ones but it's because it's building up to the next chapter which will be very short and will be the conclusion of part two. As always, thank you to my beta devdevlin/devlin085 for proofreading this and giving me feedback. Please read and review, find me on AO3 and Tumblr under the same quitethesardonic.

P.S. You can thank To Build a Home (Instrumental) by Thematic Pianos for spurring me into finishing this chapter. It has been in my Drive for weeks and because I am dramatic and highly inspired by music, well, here it is.


	14. End of Part II

Weeks had passed since the incident. With Hermione's quick thinking, they were able to prevent Hogwarts from closing down due to his mistake. It was quite unfortunate, however, that Professor Dumbledore didn't believe the lie that Hermione and he created and seemed to be suspicious of everything Tom did from then on. Some of the Knights were being kept behind class and questioned about their extracurriculars and post-Hogwarts plans. Tom would need to tread more carefully in the future to prevent exposure by Dumbledore.

But Tom could only dwell on this development for so much during this final season. Using the schedule created for him by Hermione, he focused on making sure that he passed all of his exams and breaking the record for his year.

For his final examination in Potions, Tom had brewed the love potion that he was forced to smell at the beginning of the school year.

Imagine his surprise when he finished the concoction and the smells of peonies, vanilla ice-cream tinged with firewhisky, and fresh parchment assaulted his delicate orifice.

All of which he associated with the tiny witch who had stolen from him so often and now, apparently, his heart and his affections. Tom sneered at the thought and waited for his professor to test the potion.

His emotions waged with one another and a prevalent thought of killing her came forth. Her brains and cleverness were an asset, but love? She would be a weakness if anyone was to ever find out.

" _I could very easily fall in love with you, Tom Riddle," she stated matter-of-factly._

But, if it could have been anyone, Tom thought to himself, I don't quite mind it being her.

She was bright.

" _You translated that rune incorrectly. That one right there has a slight curve to it, signifying the guardian of the mother, not the protector . . ."_

Powerful.

 _Goosebumps erupted over his skin as her intoxicating magic washed over his body. It was the most pleasurable feeling he had ever encountered as it surged and roiled with fury._

Strong.

" _She bested Rookwood, my Lord. Madam Wicke said that it will take a week for him to recover."_

Beautiful.

 _Her honey locks were splayed around her like a chaotic halo. The full moon had bathed her in its white light and she seemed almost ethereal - a fallen star among the world of mere mortals._

Kind.

" _The world shifted, indeed. Happiest of birthdays, Tom."_

She was equal to him in every sense of the word.

 _He had a nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that Hermione was holding back on him. She had yet to send any offensive spells at him, choosing instead to only defend herself from him. The duel ended in a draw . . ._

And she had proven herself loyal to him.

" _Tom, what did you do?". . . "we need to get you out of here." . . . she cast a strong Notice Me Not charm and a silencing spell on the door . . . "You have less than five minutes to complete the ritual, Tom. Get on with it."_

Was this love? Was spending an entire year being half-irritated and half-obsessed with her love? Somewhere down the road, it seemed that he fell in love with the Muggleborn witch who was everything he never knew he wanted - no, _needed._

She would be a weakness, yes, but he had no doubt that she would be one of the greatest, if not _the_ greatest, occurrence in his life. Together, they would be unstoppable. Together, the world would cower at their feet, _her_ feet. He would reshape the world to accommodate her. He didn't care what it would take because she was _his_.

The world would never know what hit them and _his_ witch would help him reign over it all.

Perhaps, being in love with her wouldn't be so bad. After all, what is a king without his queen?

 **End of Part II**

* * *

 **Revised April 16, 2019**

 **Author's Note:** This was the first chapter I wrote for infinitum and every chapter before this one was just a build-up to this scene. Part III will be wild and fun and I am _very_ excited to start writing it. Please leave a review and I will cherish it forever. Thank you to everyone who reviewed my last few chapters. They make my days and I appreciate them so, so, so much.

As always, thank you to devdevlin/devlin085 for betaing.

Find me on AO3 and Tumblr under the same penname.

 **DISCLAIMER:** _After all, what is a king without his queen?_ is inspired by Alina Baraz's Drift where she sings "what's a king without a queen, you can be my everything."


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